


Things In Life We Can't Control

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Series: an unquiet mind [16]
Category: From Paris with Love (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Hunters, And is still prepared to use sweets as bribery, Attempt at Humor, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Can almost drowning in an ocean of bones be a tag?, Established Relationship, Fire, Fluff, Ghosts, Halloween, Hunters & Hunting, Interactive Narrator, Light Angst, M/M, Nearly Buried Alive, Omniscient Narrator, Prophetic Visions, Reece is definitely not amused and is in fact angry, Romance, Until his Reece time is threatened, Wax is sorta amused, Wax still has a sweet tooth, annoying narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 20:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: Certain side-effects of the job Reece was better off keeping to himself.Until the agency stuck its fingers into his brain and started pulling out ugly, painful,privatepieces of him like he was no more than a brutalized pinata.





	Things In Life We Can't Control

**Author's Note:**

> What better way to try to get in the Halloween spirit than writing a few ficlets for my [current] favorite fandom? Even if one of my characters would rather I leave him out of it. Per the below mini series, I guess this is sorta the in-between *shrugs* - Warnings for breaking the fourth wall and an omniscient and interactive narrator (not to mention sorta creepy, or at least to Reece anyway). 
> 
> **Series:** an unquiet mind
> 
> **mini series:** tricks and treats and the in-between: _Part 3:_ the in-between  
_Part 1:_ Skinned Flesh - [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21246911)  
_Part 2:_ Postponement - [HERE](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21247061)

‘_Reece had a killer of a headache.’_

“No one needs to know that,” Reece repeated to the air, to the sky, to the invisible, omniscient, entirely unreasonable puppet currently holding his and Wax’s strings, narrating every thought and action. Reece was a private person and it sure as hell wasn’t amusing to have some person he couldn’t even  _see_ relating to Wax his innermost desires and irritations and completely reasonable reasons for hating Halloween. 

It was entirely plausible for Reece to curse this day, to see every costume and pumpkin and tacky decoration as an affront to what he had endure every damn day…

Catching Wax glancing over at him worriedly, Reece sighed heavily. There was no arguing with this  _thing _ spying on their every move; every word it spoke was true and Wax knew it even better than he. “And for the record,” Reece interjected, despite reasoning that he shouldn’t have to explain himself and that he was only adding fuel to a fire that could never be sated. “I don't have a headache, not really.” The silence punctuated between the overarching voice and Wax was astounding, causing Reece to squirm. “I mean, it’s not that bad.”

He realized that he was rubbing his head then, avoiding the various tender spots he found, as if the narrator had really driven the fact that he had a headache uncomfortably home. Reece pulled his hand quickly away, glaring at it with every ounce of betrayal he could muster.

Wax, fortunately, had moved on from Reece’s persistent, petulant denials.

“Wonder what else this little charm will reveal before the day is through.” It definitely wasn’t spoken like a question but as if he were stating a fact, and gleefully stating it. The charm he referred to was one of the agency’s tricks, and who really knew how many they had up their ever-meddling sleeves. It was meant to be a test of their partnership, to see how many secrets he and Wax kept from one another, to see how well they could work under this new mountain of pressure.

Wax was rolling with it better than just well, all because he never tended to keep much from Reece. Maybe he would withhold case-related information from time-to-time for Reece’s own good, or so he would claim, but Wax was a fairly  _open _ guy other than that. 

Reece, on the other hand, was quickly coming to realize how open and forthcoming he  _wasn’t. _

There were things about his past he never wanted to admit to Wax, moments he couldn’t fathom reliving, memories that the agency apparently had no decency in letting him work through on his own. It was the same for more recent cases. Reece’s visions were unusual and uncomfortable enough that Wax didn’t need to know every little side-effect or symptom or half-detail, which would only make it harder for both of them to do their jobs. Nosebleeds and concussions were downright impossible or foolhardy to hide, but mini symptoms like headaches and joint pain and sensitivity to light were just aspects of the job that Reece was better off keeping to himself.

Until the agency stuck its fingers into Reece’s brain and started pulling out ugly, painful,  _private _ pieces of him like he was no more than a brutalized pinata. 

Reece huffed. The prospect of arguing with Wax was only threatening to  _increase_ the sharp ache behind his eyes. “Don’t encourage it, Wax. Please. You know how much I dislike Halloween. It doesn’t need to get any worse.”

Because, of course, the agency had to pull this stunt on Reece’s  _least _ favorite day of the year. 

“But the night’s just getting started, Reece cup.” Reece just narrowly avoided running into two little kids: one dressed as a werewolf and the other as a lizard-like creature that reminded him uncomfortably of the sewer-dwelling chupacabra he and Wax had hunted the previous week. Reece  _still _ couldn’t get the sewer smell out of his clothes and hair. He turned a corner and caught sight of Wax again, racing to catch up, Wax carrying on as if they had never separated. “It’s just getting started...”

* * *

It was fitting, Reece supposed, hunting a ghost on Halloween.

Granted, her remains had taken most of the day to track down, until they lost what little light they had on fruitless leads and what little patience Reece had on their know-it-all, holier than thou narrator, unpredictable and unrelenting and unable to even  _try _ to get along with Reece apparently. 

Things could get dangerous when his head was in the game, as Wax put it, let alone when it  _wasn’t_ , but if Reece was expected to use his precious energy on  _more_ than just trying not to throttle the entirely unhelpful third partner of their hunting party, then the agency was sorely mistaken. More than that, Reece was going to give them a serious piece of his mind after all this was said and done. 

But for now, they were preoccupied tracking a murderous ghost about to claim her sixth victim.

Tired and distracted, hungry and irritable, it wasn’t completely unexpected when Reece’s head flew down into the gutter when Wax stripped off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, exposing his tanned, muscular arms for Reece to feast upon.

‘_The hunt was long forgotten in Reece’s mind by this point, and unprofessionally so. Reece gazed at his partner longingly, wanting nothing more than to light some candles and have a romantic night in. He wondered whether Wax would really be into this, however, given his enthusiasm to drag Reece into anything even remotely Halloween related. Reece viewed Wax's attempts at just below the point of torture and was...’_

“Really? Longingly?”

‘_And was getting angrier at his partner by the minute,’_ the ever-intrusive narrator insisted, voice raised as if angered by Reece’s interruption. His statement wasn’t exactly true: all Reece’s anger at this point was reserved for their third  _uninvited_ guest.  _I’ll show you angry,_ Reece thought but didn’t dare speak.  _You haven’t seen anything yet._

He came back to himself realizing that he was shaking in place from fury and frustration, Wax’s eyes wide and alarmed as he peered over at him. “Take it easy, Reece, okay? It’s only a few hours when you think about it, not worth half at what you've getting so worked up...”

“Just stop it, Wax! Okay? I’ve had enough!”

‘_Reece stormed rudely out of the scene.’_

“Shut up!”

* * *

‘_And the hunt presses onward for our dusty saviors…’_

Reece sent up a glare and picked his way tiredly and rather carelessly through the mound of bones he had practically been buried in. Wax was currently waxing poetic - too much late night reading of Shakespeare’s  _Hamlet, _ Reece accused - about the skull he held inches from his face, one which looked no different than the dozens of others currently holding him upright. Reece squinted up at him, shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun with a pummeled, currently bleeding arm. He supposed it had been slammed one too many times against what lay beneath his feet. 

He shifted his weight, panicking momentarily as a sharp crack resounded and he very nearly lost his balance.

Wax, of course, was entirely  _oblivious. _

“To be, or not to be, that is the question…”

Reece swore as he  _did _ lose his balance this time, falling ungracefully on his ass. His legs moved immediately, frantically pushing aside those bones he knew he would find no purchase on, ones that disintegrated with a mere swift kick. He gave up shortly thereafter, trying not to feel sick as his hands grasped the remains of skulls and arms and feet, slipping into cracks where eyeballs once resided, cramming in between the jagged remnants of teeth…

“Will you quit fooling around up there?” He shouted, though it may as well have fallen on deaf ears.  _One avalanche and I’ll have an ocean of bones raining down on me, burying me…_

Reece caught a glint of metal and realized Wax was moments away from lighting up the skull he held in sacrificial fire. He was just taking his sweet ass time getting around to it.

It baffled Reece how his partner could be so sure that  _his _ particular skull was the right one, given the hundreds more that surrounded them. But if there was ever a time to doubt Wax, it wasn’t now. 

‘_Reece knew better than to doubt Wax at this particular terrifying moment in time. It would be a foolishness he couldn’t afford, not while his partner stood on a towering mound of half-completed skeletons and Reece lay nearly prostrate beneath him.’_

“Wondered when you would show up again,” Reece grumbled.  _What the hell is taking Wax so long?_

‘_Wax saw Reece about to be swallowed.’_

Reece paled, hands shaking against the bones that only held him precariously steady. He still hadn’t found his footing and knew he needed to get up to higher ground where Wax was. The voice ominously supplying him with information he already knew, foreshadowing what was set to happen, only made him scrabble more frenetically against what kept him chained to the ground. “What the hell are you talking…?

As soon as he gave voice to the denial of his fear, another sharp crack echoed, followed soon after by a tremendous quake of the earth underneath him, rattling the bones clamping down on his wearied limbs.

“Wax!” More than half of it was swallowed up just as surely as Reece was. Bones blocked his mouth, restricting his airways, limiting his range of movement and pouring dust into his eyes that first limited his sight and then entirely blacked out his vision.

Of course, the thunder of sound wasn’t all-consuming enough to drown out the narrator’s voice, reminding him of the agency’s grip on him and somehow managing to be comforting and worrying at the same time.

‘_Wax made a tremendous leap.’_

Not that it was giving him much useful information. Had Wax found him or not?

More pressing, would the narrator let him be buried alive when Reece  _knew, _ being the all-knowing being he supposedly was, that he knew  _exactly _ where to find him? Would he stay silent to Wax on that point? 

Reece must have blacked out between that moment and the next, for the next thing he felt was a hand wrapped around his wrist and pulling at him, nearly dragging him out of his own skin, nearly dislocating his arm, nearly making Reece choke on the weight of his own pain when the dust clogging his throat meant he technically couldn’t choke at all. He suspected he wasn’t even breathing at that point, and knew it to be the case minutes later when Wax was pressing down on his chest hard enough to leave bruises.

He arched his back, coughing up a mountain and a half of dust, rolling over onto his side and breathing in and grasping for unsteady purchase…

Grass?

But it  _was _ grass. 

‘_Reece, grateful to be alive, breathed in the fresh, sweet smell of grass, vowing never to let Wax drag him into a bone-yard again.’_

“Things in life we can’t control, g-man.”

Reece gratefully opened his eyes, the bright, beautiful blue sky opening up above him in its refreshing version of a welcome back. Wax’s arms hoisting him upright meanwhile were the warmest welcome back of all.

* * *

Reece turned towards the audience, breaking the agency’s ironclad protocol and that fact not worrying him in the slightest.

“Well… you’ve probably seen enough of our lives by now to know that the agency can do some pretty underhanded things and as Wax would say, this just takes the cake…”

Wax chose that moment to barge in, slamming the door shut behind him. He was carrying plastic bags  _again_ , no doubt filled with more cheesy decorations _. _ Decades more experience meant Wax could easily ignore those who were always peering anxiously into their lives, but this only meant his damning gaze landed on Reece. “What the hell are you doing? Are you suicidal enough to break our first rule: never reveal to the audience that we know they’re there? We’re here to entertain them, Reece, that’s all!”

‘_Cause misery loves company, right? _ Reece broke eye-contact with the audience and with Wax altogether, pouring himself another crappy cup of lukewarm, midday coffee. 

Well, it wasn’t  _their _ rule, just the agency’s. 

Wax  _was _ right though: do it once and it would quickly become a habit. And Reece was pretty good at falling into bad habits. 

It figured  _this _ was the moment their ever-present narrator would choose to remain silent. 

Eager for distraction, Reece tried to peer into Wax’s bags as if he were  _actually _ interested in their contents. “So, where’s that candy corn you promised me?”

Wax completely turned his back on the audience as if pulling a blind down between him and Reece; if only it were that easy. “You forget so soon about helping me put up those decorations?”

Reece opened his mouth to tell Wax that they should just get all of this over with, all the stupid little childish things that went along with Halloween, or at least the things that Wax believed _should _go with Halloween, but Wax uncorked a bottle of wine, poured each of them a glass, allowed Reece one small sip and then practically swept him off his feet with a kiss every bit as electric and powerful as a lightning storm. As cheesy as it sounded, it was the kiss of a lifetime, one that reeked of sweetness and intensity, offering ironclad promises and insisting to Reece that this night was just about the two of them, how Wax wanted to share every one of his little quirks with Reece. 

_If Halloween gets Wax in the mood, then who am I to complain? _

Somehow they made it to their  _still _ unmade bed, pushing aside crumpled sheets despite the chill pervading the room. Reece let Wax lead him where he wanted to go, content resting on his back with Wax pushing insistently between his legs. It was only when Wax pulled away that Reece pushed up onto his elbows, waiting for him to come back. 

“Trick or Treat?” Wax prompted, climbing on top of Reece and offering an orange frosted chocolate cupcake that was mysteriously half-squished, icing oozing haphazardly down the sides. He had probably accidentally sat on the box or used it as a handy, albeit flimsy shield, one or the other or maybe even both, knowing Wax as well as he did.

Reece rolled his eyes, accepting that icing on his fingers was better than blood on his hands.

‘_It seemed that Reece had finally gotten his romantic night after all.’_

“You bet your ass we did,” Wax responded this time. The way he dove into Reece’s mouth relayed the finality of his statement in a way that Reece  _wholeheartedly _ approved of. 

When Wax released him, offering up the cupcake again in penance for his day’s worth of sins, Reece followed his lead. “Just let us enjoy our night while we have one.”

‘_And he told the helpful narrator to shut up while he was at it.’_

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Happy (late) Halloween! If you’ve made it to the end of this mini-series, I offer you a hundred leftover mini chocolates.


End file.
